Dark Child
by Amadaun
Summary: Sometimes, a Thieves Guild job is simple, even when you’re only ten years old. And sometimes, you get more than you bargained for. A lot more. A prequel to Dark Devotion.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a prequel to my other 'fic, Dark Devotion. It's based about ten years previously, and actually has very little impact on the main story. I just wrote this to try and figure out my main character's background.

It's quite a bit shorter - about 4 chapters, I think. But hey, there's a lot of Lucien, so what more can one ask for? (Just to warn you, though, I do _not_ write a nice Lucien. I write more of a heartless, creepily calm, scary smart, I-love-shiny-pointy-objects-and-I'm-very-good-with-them-and-I'll-use-them-if-you-look-at-me-wrong-sort of bastard.)

And, since I almost forgot, I don't own Oblivion, wish I did, -insert other standard disclaimer stuff here-

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**-Dark Child-**

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It all started with a lock.

To my defense, it was a particularly recalcitrant lock. I'd already snapped off five of my picks in it. At that time, I didn't yet have the patience to deal with repeated failure. I sniffled quietly and rubbed at my eyes, wiping away tears of frustration. I had been so proud of myself, sneaking into the house, and now I couldn't get a simple jewelry box open. No wonder my Doyen kept telling me I needed more experience.

To tell the truth, I really did. I was only ten years old. A scrawny, black-haired, brown-eyed, Breton street urchin. A daughter of the Waterfront poor. Just like everyone else in my group.

"My group" was a bunch of kids, anywhere from toddler to late teens, who lived together in the basement of an abandoned house. Some of us had families, some didn't. Most of us didn't want to be home anyway. There were about a dozen of us, all told. Half of us were Thieves Guild. The Doyen in the area didn't like us being in the guild, though. He always worried that we'd get ourselves caught, or hurt, or even killed. He especially didn't like me being in the guild, even only as a lowly Pickpocket. I was the youngest, you see. So, no matter what I managed to bring in, he refused to advance me.

I knew I had the skills. I was extremely small for my age, barely reaching three-and-a-half feet in height. I always went barefoot, wearing nothing more than breeches and a shirt, both dyed dark to better blend with the shadows. And I could move nearly silently. That, coupled with my size, made me more successful than you would think. I could hide almost anywhere. And if things went bad, I could run like the wind, dodging through crowds. The downside of this was that, tiny as I was, I couldn't carry much at all.

After a couple of unsuccessful runs when I started, I learned to target jewelry. I could carry plenty of jewels in my pockets, wrapped separately in rags so they wouldn't jingle together. Half the time their cases weren't even locked. I admit, though, I had a habit of trying on the necklaces and rings and admiring my reflection in the water when I thought no one was watching. What little girl wouldn't do the same?

But you had to be good. Or at least quiet. Jewels were kept in the bedroom, with the owners sleeping a mere breath away.

On that day, though, the couple was out of town, and the house was empty, save for the servants. I smiled to myself as I inserted another pick. Taking a deep breath, I forced my small hands to remain steady. I carefully pulled out the broken bit of my other pick and tapped at the pins of the lock. This attempt was more successful than the others and my smile widened into a grin of triumph as the lock clicked open.

I lifted the lid, picked out a few choice pieces and slid them into my pockets. Novice thieves make the mistake of shoveling the lot into a bag. All that does is make a lot of noise, and ensures that you'll never be able to rob that place again. That was a lesson drummed into me over and over by Ja'krivva, the best thief in our group.

She told me: "Ja'krivva discovered that if the hunter only takes a couple, the lady may assume that she lost them. She'll replace them, and a few weeks later, the hunter can have another go. If a thief takes all of the gems, they may be replaced, but the lady will be watching for another break-in. This is not a good thing. Ja'krivva made quite a profit off of one forgetful woman, who was convinced that she lost her rings every few days. Ja'krivva even amused herself once by returning an amulet to her for a reward."

It was true. The oldest thieves were the ones that knew to pace themselves. Greed in our guild tended to get you dead.

I was just closing the lid of the jewelry box again when I heard a noise. Panic seized me when I recognized it as the front door opening and closing again. I'd already checked to make sure all of the servants were asleep, so either one had awoken and left for some reason, or someone else had just come in. Neither option seemed good.

My worst fears were realized as I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I hoped that it was a fellow thief, but I knew that was unlikely. Whoever was climbing the stairs wasn't trying to be quiet. Quickly, I scurried into a corner by a desk, concealing myself in the shadows. I crouched down as small as I could make myself, and prayed that my heart would stop pounding.

The bedroom door opened, and the Master of the house, a Dunmer, entered and lit a lamp. Despite my panic, I found myself wondering what in the world was going on. What was he doing back here? Half the City knew that the couple was heading to Anvil for a week. The beggars had told me about it, and I'd chosen to break in on the third night that they were gone. Why was he back, by himself, and several days early?

I was actually a little annoyed that he would interrupt all my planning like this.

The Dunmer started to shut the door behind him, but paused, left it open, and began pacing back and forth across the room. As he paced, he tried to shake the dust from the road out of his clothing, but with little success. Obviously, he'd ridden hard to get here. Every once in a while he'd stop, glance over at the door, and look worried.

My legs were beginning to go numb. I wriggled my toes, trying to keep my feet from falling asleep. Other than that, I didn't dare move, save to slowly bow my head so that my dark hair fell over my face, hiding my pale skin from the flickering candlelight.

Suddenly, my attention was drawn to the doorway. Even though I was sure that I could see nothing but empty air, my brain insisted that it had seen a movement. I squinted, and thought that the air looked a little wobbly, the way it did in the summer over the hot cobbles. If I wasn't going crazy, someone was using a Chameleon spell.

But…I hadn't heard the front door open again. My head spun, trying to make sense of what was going on. Just then, the spell was dropped, and a man appeared in the room.

He was wearing all black, a hood and a robe, black gloves and boots. They shimmered gently with enchantments. His hood was drawn over his face, so I couldn't really tell what he looked like, save that his mouth was drawn into a harsh line.

The Dunmer jumped nearly a foot in the air when he turned to see the other man standing there. He wasn't the only one. Using one hand to brace himself against the desk, he clutched the other to his chest. "You-! I'm sorry, y-you startled me. I…Are you f-from the Dark Brotherhood?"

The man nodded silently.

My heart leapt into my throat. The Dark Brotherhood! I was dead. I was so dead. The Brotherhood was an assassins' guild. I'd heard of the rituals that they used and the people that they killed. If they knew that I was here, that I was a witness, I'd be dead faster than I could blink. The fact that I was only a child meant nothing.

Despite my fear, however, I admit that I was intrigued by the whole thing. I was as curious as could be at that age, a trait I've never really gotten rid of. I just don't do _really_ stupid things to satisfy it nowadays.

I remained in my corner, utterly still, as the master of the house walked behind his desk. He was very obviously trying to put distance between himself and the black-clad man. He unlocked a drawer and removed a folded piece of paper, which he held out with a trembling hand. The assassin made no move to take it. After an awkward few seconds, the Dunmer got the hint, and laid it on the desk instead. Only then was it picked up and opened.

I decided that this must be a meeting to discuss payment, or details, or something like that. I wondered briefly who was going to die, but shrugged it off. Death didn't bother me, as long as I wasn't the one doing the dying. I'd seen plenty of death in my ten years of life. Mostly knife fights between pirates, or the occasional ill child. To me, death just happened, whether you deserved it or not. It wasn't particularly interesting anymore.

The little man stood there, fidgeting, as the Brotherhood member read the slip of paper. The cowled head lifted, nodded once, and the assassin spoke for the first time. "The Contract is accepted. I suggest you leave now."

The Dunmer all but threw a bag of coins onto the desk and bolted. I've never seen anything that didn't live in the sewers scurry away quite so fast.

The paper and coins disappeared into the velvet robes, and a ring (likely the thing with the Chameleon enchantment) appeared. The assassin rolled it back and forth between thumb and forefinger for a moment, then turned and looked straight at me. I nearly died of heart failure then and there.

"You may as well come out. You are good, but I've known you were there since I entered the room." I was shaking like a leaf at this point. Was he bluffing? He could have been bluffing.

I had just decided to remain in the corner, hoping that he didn't really know I was there, when he shrugged and added, "Or you can stay there and die in the corner. I can separate your head from your shoulders just as easily from here."

Eep. I stood, wincing as blood came back into my tingling legs. I stumbled towards him and came to a halt about an arm's length away, unable to make my feet go those extra few steps.

Now that I was closer, I had a better view of his face. He was an Imperial, a good two-and-a-half feet taller than my child's frame. And…he didn't look like one of the monsters that the people in the Brotherhood were supposed to be. He looked like a normal man. Maybe even nicer-looking than most of the people I knew. His eyebrows lifted slightly as he examined me.

"So young…only a child…" he murmured. His eyes raked downwards, resting on my bare feet. A crooked smile flitted across his lips. "I thought leather armor was the definitive uniform of the Thieves Guild."

I stayed silent, quaking, too afraid to do anything more than breath.

He reached out, hooked a gloved finger under my chin and studied my face. I felt the electric prickle of the enchantments his clothes bore, but forced myself to not pull away.

"To spy on a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood…" he mused, "That is a deadly game, little one. Not what you bargained for, to be sure, but now I am faced with several options. Tell me, what should I do with you?"

I bit my lip, trembling, but still refused to say anything. I blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. Tears of pure terror coursed down my cheeks anyway. His hand left my chin and brushed them away.

"Don't cry, little one. To die is not such a bad thing, and that's the worst I would do to you."

I shook my head, pulled away, and tried to dash for the door. There was a blurred whirl of black cloth, the world spun, and in the next heartbeat I found myself pinned to the desk, a dagger at my throat. I blinked.

"Don't do that again." His deep voice sounded almost bored. The dagger was pulled away and tossed on the desk beside my head. I glanced over at it as it clattered on the wood. I swallowed. Hard. It was _my_ dagger, the one I kept strapped to my calf. I tried to sit up.

"_Don't-!_" I froze at the hissed command and his voice settled back into a sibilant whisper. "-move. Good girl." He pulled another dagger from somewhere and tapped the point against his lips as he stared at me. "Intelligent, yet foolish. Brave, yet terrified. Young, yet skilled. Rebellious, yet obedient. A study in contradictions. A silent, dark child." He used the dagger to gesture at the door. "I won't dispose of you here, at any rate. We will discuss your future, short as it may be, in another place. Come with me, and stay as silent as you were before."

He slipped his ring on and blurred into the background once more. I hesitated, and was rewarded by the cold prick of the blade at the small of my back.

"_Go._"

I scowled at the empty air and snatched my dagger from the desk, sliding it into its sheath. It was only iron, but it had cost me half a month's work. No way was I leaving it behind.

Moving gently on the balls of my feet, I ghosted out of the room and down the stairs. I didn't dare look behind me to see if the assassin was still there. I knew he was. A quick glance out the window downstairs showed no guards walking by, and I eased the door open.

Slipping through the six-inch gap, I considered running for it. Surely I could get away before he managed to get out the door himself? Another prick, this one between my shoulder blades, dissuaded me from that idea. I looked over my shoulder, to see that the door was already shut. Again, I hadn't heard a thing.

"Left." the velvety voice ordered. I obeyed, and continued to follow the whispered directions until we had eased down into the sewers that run underneath the city.

I actually liked the sewers. They were cool and dark, even on the hottest summer days, and the smell really wasn't that bad. As long as you stayed away from the drainage lines themselves, that is. I practiced my skills with a dagger on the rats that lived down there. That may sound like nothing, but a few of them were nearly as big as I was. I never was brave enough to figure out what they were eating.

I never ventured too far in, though. After one run-in with a goblin, I steered clear of the nasty green creatures. And the kids whispered rumors of ghosts that lived in the depths. Or worse.

So, I was terrified when the assassin guided me to a door that I knew led into those depths. "N-no." I whimpered, digging in my heels.

He paused and looked down at me. He'd already removed his Chameleon spell, and I could see the flash of impatience, "No?" he inquired softly.

"T_hings_ live down there." I shuddered. "H-horrible things."

"Really? Are they worse than me?" The tone seemed gentle, almost kind, but the steel underneath was unmistakable.

Even to a ten-year-old, the answer to that was obvious. We went through the door.


	2. Chapter 2

It only took a few turns for me to become completely lost

It only took a few turns for me to become completely lost. It was almost pitch black in this part of the sewers – I had no idea how the assassin could see. I jumped at every shadow, and eventually the man seemed to take pity on me. He crouched in front of me and once again wiped my tear-stained face. "Hush, little one."

"But-but…I don't under_stand_!" I nearly wailed, but fear kept me to a whisper. "There are _monsters_ here! I'm scared!" I snuffled and wiped my nose on my sleeve. "I don't want to die…"

"You will not die. Yet. You will stay silent, and stay with me." He stood and placed his hand on my shoulder, encompassing me in a cocoon of black velvet. I sniffed, breathing in his scent - a mixture of spices, cold steel, and the sharp tang of poisons. Against my will, my hand reached over and grabbed a handful of his robe, clutching it to me. He looked down at me in surprise, but made no comment.

We continued on, with me clinging to him. At one point, he scooped me under one arm and leapt clear across a drainage line. This prompted a squeak from me, but besides that, I obediently remained quiet.

We halted again when the faint sound of footsteps caught his attention. He pulled me behind a stack of crates, pressing a finger to my lips. We waited in silence as the sound grew closer and closer. I hoped with all my heart that it was just a goblin returning to the old campfire that still smoldered near us. But the silhouette that I could see in the faint glow did _not_ look goblinoid.

Only the assassin's warning kept me from whimpering aloud when the source of the footsteps finally came into view. It was a very pale man – his face was drawn, and his eyes seemed to glow red in the darkness. He only looked like an old man, yet something about him felt very _wrong._

He stopped in front of us, and sniffed the air. I felt the assassin tense next to me, and I pressed my hands over my mouth.

Suddenly, the pale man let out an unearthly howl and sprang at us. I saw his fangs glisten, and bit down on a finger to keep from shrieking. A vampire! I heard a rustle of cloth and turned just in time to see the assassin meet the monster mid-leap.

A silver flash, and the vampire fell back, howling. The two men circled each other, looking for an opening. The beast clearly hadn't fed for a while. I knew that much of the legends. You could see the whipcord strength of it, the flexing claws. No wonder the assassin was being careful, this was truly a monster among monsters.

The vampire's eyes kept flicking over to my hiding place. I'd heard that vampires could hear your heart beating from fifty paces. It seemed that that rumor was true. I squeezed the hilt of my dagger so hard that my knuckled turned white and prayed that the assassin would finish the beast off before I became its meal. No matter what the assassin had planned for me, it surely had to be better than having all of my blood drained.

It was now clear that it wanted me, rather than the much more dangerous man it now faced. I swallowed, realizing that I was basically defenseless and easily portable. My eyes fell on the old fire, and a spark of an idea came to me. If only some of the other rumors were true as well…

The next time the vampire's back was to me, I released the death-grip I had on my dagger and very slowly eased toward the fire. The assassin saw me at once, of course, and frowned. I ignored him, chanting, _don't look at me, don't look at me_, in my head. Slowly, ever so slowly, I reached out for a chunk of wood…

Just then, the vampire spotted me. It spun and leapt, nails grown into claws outstretched, thirsting for my blood. Abandoning all attempts at stealth, I dove at the burning wood, grabbed it with both hands, rolled, and brought it up just as the vampire reached me.

The agonized shriek it made as its flesh burned rang throughout the sewers. I had rammed the wood right into its face with all of my small strength. The stick splintered at the impact, driving burning shards into its head and my hands. I dropped the rest of the stick, and doubled up, clenching my hands to my chest and wailing.

The vampire continued its path over my head, as it clawed at its eyes. A black blur followed it and after the first sound of steel striking flesh, I turned my head away.

The vampire took a very long time to die.

I heard blood splashing on the floor in great gouts. At some point, something flew past my shoulder and bounced on the ground as I rocked back and forth, nursing my hands. I looked to see what it was, which was a mistake. It was an eye.

Once the howling stopped, the assassin walked over to the corner where I was busy throwing up. He waited politely for me to finish and held out a flask. I looked at it, and then at him. He was spotless, as far as I could tell, his face composed. I thought of myself, curled up in the corner, and how I must look.

I decided, in that instant, that I wanted to be like him. I wanted his lack of fear, his strength. I wanted to be able to do what he did. I swore that someday, somehow, I would. If I lived that long.

I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, and reached out to take the flask, but hissed in pain. I'd forgotten about what had happened to my hands. I held them up to my face and nearly vomited again. They looked like…at the time, I had nothing to compare them to. They were covered in blood, and my sleeves were soaked with it. The whiteness of bone showed through in several places. Now that the adrenaline rush from fighting the vampire was gone, the full blast of pain hit me. I passed out.

When I came to, I was completely surprised to be alive. There was absolutely no reason why I should be. The softness beneath me told me that I was on a bedroll. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that the whole thing was just a dream. The taste in the back of my throat told me that it wasn't.

"You're very lucky that you were not awake when I took out the splinters, little one." I opened my eyes again to see the assassin sitting at a desk on the other side of the room. We were still in the sewers, unless his home was made of slimy, green stone, and smelt of things better ignored. But there was a desk, and a few chairs, and some shelves, and the bedroll I was laying on, tucked up in a little nook in the wall. The man was busy writing something, his back to me. By now, I didn't even wonder how he knew I was awake.

I brought up my hands to rub my eyes and saw that they were wrapped in clean, white bandages. I heard the clinking of glass. The assassin had taken a few vials from the shelf and was walking over to me.

"This is a Brotherhood safe hole," he said conversationally, "It is useful when one needs a place to stay in the Imperial city. I won't even mention how very lucky you are that you were not awake when I brought you here. Sit up."

I obeyed, a little clumsily, since I didn't want to put any weight on my hands. He set down the vials and pulled up a chair. Taking my wrists in a firm grip, he began to unwrap the bandages. "Now, then." he said, "I think the Cure Disease potion should have taken by now. I assume you didn't want to become a vampire?"

I shook my head violently. He continued, examining my hands, "Blood to blood contact like you had is very dangerous. It's rather more difficult to remove the infection, especially with you unconscious like that." He looked me in the eye, "What you did was incredibly stupid, little one. Brave, perhaps, but incredibly stupid. I was more than capable of handling that monster by myself. I do know how to fight vampires." He smirked, as though enjoying a private joke.

"Still…" his glare softened, "it was well done."

He nodded then, apparently satisfied by the condition of my hands. Reaching down, he uncorked one of the bottles. "Hold out your hands," he instructed, "and do not scream. This will hurt quite a bit."

I blinked, and without another warning, he splashed the liquid over my hands. Pain lanced through me, and the sharp smell of alcohol assaulted my nose. I made a strangled noise, and, as the pain subsided, added some words that I'd learnt from the pirates.

"I will excuse what you just called me, if only because I doubt you even know what it means. Now drink, the brandy will help get rid of the taste in your mouth." He raised the bottle he'd just drenched my hands with. I regarded it with suspicion, but opened my mouth anyway. He tipped a good amount in and I swallowed automatically. Immediately, my throat caught on fire, my eyes and nose began running, and I began to cough as though I had Bloodlung.

When I was able to breathe again, I wiped my eyes, and croaked, "Water. Please." He held out the flask he had offered earlier, and I drank greedily. "Thank you," I whispered, when I was finished.

"Of course, little one." He corked the bottles, and stood. I looked at my hands, and realized that they were now perfectly smooth. Whether the water contained a healing elixir, or if he had cast a spell when I was coughing, I didn't know. _But,_ I reflected as I wriggled my fingers, _at least they still work. _A thief without hands was as good as_…oh._

I raised my head to see the assassin leaning against the wall, watching me. I opened and closed my mouth several times, trying to think of what to say, finally settling on, "Why?"

"Sithis knows," he said, and shrugged. I couldn't tell if he meant it to mean to ask someone who actually knew, or if he was saying it the same way that others said, "Akatosh knows." I didn't even know who Sithis was, but figured I'd better not ask as he continued, "For now, consider it a whim on my part. Just because I'm a murderer doesn't mean I have to indiscriminately slaughter everyone I meet. Some of us do, I'll grant you, but I like to think that I have more…restraint. At any rate, I certainly couldn't kill you inside that man's house. It would be foolish to draw attention to myself that way."

I shivered at his matter-of-fact tone. "Oh."

"I'm not sure yet what I _will _do with you, but for now, don't worry about a knife in your back. You are proving to be an interesting…diversion. Until I decide otherwise, you are under my protection." He bowed his head to me. "Lucien Lachance, Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, at your service."


	3. Chapter 3

A million questions whirled through my mind. It was quite a lot for a ten-year-old to absorb. I couldn't even think of where to start. Lucien saved me the trouble by asking, "So, little one, do you have a name?"

"Wisp."

Raised eyebrow. "Last name?"

"No. I mean, Wisp isn't really my name. It's my thief name. My Doyen gave it to me. That's what they do for us. Sometimes we don't have names. If we have a family, they don't want to know if we get caught." I bit my lip and looked timidly up at him. "I'd tell you my real name, if you wanted to know. It's kinda icky, though."

"Perhaps later." He rubbed his chin. "So…Wisp…That makes sense. Small, nearly invisible, and annoying." He ignored my squeak of outrage. "It will do for now. How old are you, Wisp?"

"Ten and a half."

He nodded. "Do you have anything you would like to ask me?"

With stunning ten-year-old tact, I blurted out, "How many people have you killed?"

He actually looked shocked for a second before he burst out laughing. I blushed, realizing what I had said. He sank down into a chair, still laughing. As his chuckling faded away, he said, "Little one, what kind of question is that?"

"I-I-it's-" I stammered, "You don't look like a bad man."

He looked highly amused. "Really?"

He reached up and removed his hood, letting me have a closer look at his face. He had long, dark hair, a little like mine, save mine was more blue-back and his more a dark brown. His was longer, too – which I thought was a little funny. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards as I studied him. I decided that his eyes looked pretty when he smiled. They were strange eyes – very dark, with flecks of gold.

I shook my head. "You still look nice."

"Perhaps that makes me all the more dangerous," he replaced the hood. "Remember what happened to the vampire, and believe me when I say that I enjoyed it."

"…don't understand." I said in a small voice.

"Hmmm." He rose, and crossed to a chest beside the shelves. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

I nodded. I hadn't eaten for a day at least, and with all that had happened I was beginning to feel light-headed.

"Here," he tossed me an apple from the chest, "Take this."

I caught it, and brought it to my mouth. Some kind of sixth sense made me pause. I sniffed it. My nose, like my other senses, was well trained from living on the streets. I caught a bitter undercurrent to the apple's sweet smell, and instantly thought of Lucien's own scent. I looked up at him to find him watching me intently.

"This is poison, isn't it?" I said accusingly.

"Certainly," he admitted at once. I sputtered in fury as he plucked it from my fingers. "No need for anger, Wisp. It was merely to prove a point."

"Point?" Tears rushed to my eyes. Betrayal hurt a lot more at ten. "What point? What if I ate it? You promised-!"

He held it in front of my eyes. "Does this look like a good apple?"

"No! It's-!"

"Wisp!" he interrupted, his voice cold, "Before you knew it was poisoned, did it look like a good apple?"

My sense of self-preservation held my anger in check now. I had begun to relax around him, but now his tone of voice reminded me that he was indeed a cold-blooded killer. "Yes."

"And I look like a nice man?"

"Yes-oh!" Comprehension dawned. As well as a fresh bloom of fear. "Oh." I repeated, quietly.

"Good."

As he returned the apple to the chest, I ventured, timidly, "Wh-what if I had eaten it?"

"You would have died. Rather quickly." He shrugged. "You are a bright child – I was willing to take the risk."

He held out a loaf of bread. I looked at it, but made no move to take it. He smiled. "Good. You now understand." He pressed the bread into my hand. "Though my word is worth nothing outside my family, I promise that this is safe to eat. But, eat it or don't. It matters not to me." Walking over to the desk, he picked up a sheaf of papers and shuffled them together. "I must leave for a while. Your appearance has made a few things slightly more…difficult. Do not leave this room while I am gone, or you will wish that the vampires had found you first. However, if you get bored, feel free to look around. Can you read?"

I nodded. I'd taught myself how from books that I had stolen.

"Use a chair to reach the books on the shelf, then. I should be back within a few hours, and at that point we will need to discuss your future." He nodded at me from the door. "Goodbye, Wisp."

He left. I heard the lock click shut.

I stared down at the bread in my hand. Slowly, I lifted it to my nose and sniffed. Nothing. I broke it open, and smelled it again. Just bread. A little stale, perhaps, but not even moldy. Good bread. I swallowed, my mouth watering. I had a whole loaf of bread to myself.

At that point, my hunger got the best of me. I decided to eat it. I nibbled on it slowly at first, as my stomach was still a little upset. As I chewed, I slid down out of the bedroll, and wandered around the room.

My fingers itched to take some of the potions on the shelves, but fear kept me from doing so. Instead, I lifted the lid of the chest. I could see at once that the apples were kept well apart from the rest of the food. I felt better about eating the bread, then.

I finished the bread as I walked over to the bookshelf. I licked the crumbs from my fingers and read a few titles. I made a face. I'd read all of them already. They were boring ones too, history books about the Empire. Everybody seemed to have them in their houses.

There were more on the higher shelves, but I couldn't quite see them. I took Lucien's suggestion and dragged over a chair. Clambering on top, I examined the book spines.

None of the titles were ones that I recognized, so I just grabbed the first few on the shelf and lugged them over to the bedroll to read. After I was done with the first one, I felt hungry again. I found some grapes in the chest of food, and munched on them as I continued on to the next. I was fascinated by the words and time rushed by.

Toward the end of the shelf, I finally found some books about the Sithis person that Lucien mentioned. They were difficult to understand, much more so than the story books, but I struggled through them.

I glared at the pages when I finished. They made no sense at all! All I could get from them was that Sithis was some kind of God. Or the Night. Or dark. Or not.

"Bleah…" I muttered, and opened the last book, The Five Tenets, and sighed. More stuff about Sithis. And someone called the Night Mother. I remembered her from another book I had read. Though I didn't know what a tenet was.

Just then, I heard voices outside the door. One was Lucien's, but the other, a woman's, I didn't recognize. It sounded like they were arguing. _ Uh oh._ Suddenly afraid again, I all but flew off of the bedroll and into a convenient corner. I crouched down behind a shelf, just as the lock clicked open.

Lucien entered first. Not seeing me immediately, he ran a quick look over the entire room, his eyes narrowing. A heartbeat later, his gaze fell on me in the corner. He smirked, but didn't motion for me to come out. I stayed then, waiting for a signal that it was all right to show myself. If the woman had Lucien's eyes, though, she'd quickly spot me.

He turned and beckoned, and the woman entered. She was very tall, and elven, I guessed. She wore the same kind of clothing that Lucien did, and when she threw back her hood, I could see that she was an Altmer. I could also see that she was furious.

"Brother, you can't be serious! Sithis knows that we humor your whims, but this is going too far! Letting some little brat into a safe house! Have you _completely_ taken leave of your senses? Why didn't you just slit her throat and be done with it?"

I decided that I didn't like her.

She continued to rant as Lucien gathered up my stack of books and returned them to the shelf. He, on the other hand, didn't seem upset. Rather, he seemed to be enjoying himself. After all the books were shelved, she was still going strong, so he leaned back against the wall and waited politely for her to finish. I found myself feeling a little impressed. Even the pirates didn't use language like that.

She finally finished her speech by looking around the room and saying, "Where is the little s'wit anyway?"

"Oh," he waved his hand absently, "She's around here someplace."

She glared daggers at him, then shouted, "Child! Child, come here at once!"

I ignored her.

She ordered me again to show myself. I still refused to move. Her face turned red and she snarled, "Speaker Lucien, this had better not be a joke!"

Lucien held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Arquen, can you blame a little girl for hiding after she's heard you list the many inventive ways that you wish to kill her?"

She actually growled at him. He sighed and beckoned to me. "Wisp, come here."

I stood and peeked around the edge of the shelf. Arquen saw me and took a step in my direction. I squeaked and dashed to hide behind Lucien. He caught my waist with one hand and made me stand in front of him. He seemed to sense my fear, and placed a hand on each of my shoulders to reassure me. Or perhaps to just keep me from fleeing again.

"A slimy, little street rat," Arquen said, disgust evident in her voice. "Even if we kill her, her soul will be nearly nothing to Sithis. Let me open her up, Lucien. She may as well provide some sport, since she has no other worth."

I shrank back, trembling. Lucien's hands tightened on my shoulders. "Be still, little one. She will not hurt you. She is just upset that a mere child was able to hide from her in a small room."

"Brother, you speak out of line!" The woman reached forward and used a finger to tilt my head to one side, then the other. "I don't know what you see in her, Lucien. There is hardly any more to her than rags and a mildew-like stench. I could snap her neck with but a thought…"

She dug a nail into my cheek, somehow drawing blood even though she wore gloves. That did it. I had been through too much that day, and she pushed me to the breaking point.

Like a striking snake, I snapped at her hand, caught a finger in my teeth and bit down hard. Arquen let out a wordless scream of rage and pain. Warm blood flooded into my mouth before she slapped me, forcing me to release my hold.

She stumbled backwards and pointed the bleeding fingertip at me. "The Tenets forbid me from beating the sense into you, Brother, but know this! If I ever have the chance, if I _ever_ see her againI will bathe in her blood!" She stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

I began to sob, terrified. Lucien's hand stroked my hair gently, but I could feel him trembling as well. I looked up to see his lips pressed tight, and his eyes flashing with fury. Suddenly, he let out the breath he had been holding, dismissing the anger in an instant, and smiled ruefully down at me. "Once again, brave, but foolish, child. I thought to warn her away from you. Rather, it seems as though you have provoked her."

I sniffled. "She's mean…Is she really your sister?"

"Not by birth, no. By the vows of our order, yes. I suppose that in any family, though, there will be…disagreements." He nudged me toward a chair. As I obediently sat cross-legged, he pulled over a chair for himself. He took his seat across from me, resting his chin in his hand and giving me an evaluating look. With the back of my hand, I wiped my blood from my cheek, and Arquen's blood from my lips.

I was uneasy, remembering what he had said about 'deciding my future.' And I surely hadn't behaved well recently.

It surprised me then, when he nodded at the shelves of books and asked, "Did you read all of those?"

"Y-yes. I didn't understand a lot of the words, though. And the ones about Sithis make no sense. They all say something different," I complained.

"I see," he sounded amused. "Sithis is a difficult concept to understand. There are few who know what He is."

"Do you?"

"Partly. I believe only the Night Mother herself understands Him fully. When the newest recruits to our order ask me, I tell them to imagine a perfect, cloudless midnight, cold as winter ice and shrouded in shadow. Do you understand that?"

I screwed up my face, trying to, but failing. "Not really, but it sounds pretty. I like winter."

Lucien burst out laughing again. "Night Mother forgive me," he gasped, "but the innocence of youth is so refreshing."

I was a little confused, but decided that it must be a grown-up thing. "Who's the Night Mother? One of the books said she was your boss."

He nodded, "Yes, she is our mother, and the bride of Sithis."

"So…" I thought about this for a second. "If she's your mom, and she's married to Sithis, that would make him your dad, right? And they're the ones you kill people for?"

"Exactly right." He smiled at me, and I beamed proudly.

Another thought came to me then, and Lucien watched me silently as I struggled to voice it. "Are the people in the Dark Brotherhood like that mean elf lady?"

"Arquen," he corrected.

"I don't like her. I'm _not_ sorry that I bit her. And she wants to kill me."

"I know." The pensive look returned. "Which is a problem for you. She is powerful in our family, and the others may listen to her."

"But you're powerful too, aren't you? Couldn't you protect me?"

"Not forever," he frowned. "You may be more trouble than you're worth, but I have a feeling that someday you will be useful. And I like to upset Arquen, which is an added bonus."

"Why?"

"She is one of those who have no restraint. I feel sometimes as though she…" he paused, "as though she harms our cause more than helping it." He looked over at my wide-eyed face and shook his head ruefully. "Wisp, you are far too easy to talk to, and I am coming perilously close to violating a Tenet. Perhaps I ought to kill you after all."

A tremor ran through me. I knew that I wasn't safe yet – and now that I'd angered Arquen, it was quite likely that I never would be. But still… "If – if I'm going to die," tears began to well up again, "please…you kill me. Not A-arquen. I think that she wants me t-to hurt. A lot. I don't want to die like the vampire did."

He stayed silent for a very long time, looking at me. Finally, he stood, and drew the short sword at his waist. "I don't believe I've ever had anyone ask me to kill them before."

I stared at the sword and began to shake even harder. "W-will-will it hurt?"

"I expect it will. Having never died, I can't be certain, of course." He tilted his head slightly to the side and studied my tearstained face. "You want mercy from me. I don't know if you will get it."

"But….but I thought you said that…"

"Don't think that I don't kill innocents, Wisp. I do. I am not a merciful man, you see. My self-control does not prevent me from killing when I wish to. I enjoy seeing blood. And I enjoy bringing death. Restraint means only that I enjoy it even more when I allow myself to…indulge." He looked oddly…happy. Almost excited. "You are far too young to understand that delaying pleasure only heightens it."

He was right. I didn't understand a single word he had just said. Not that it really mattered. By now, my voice had fled, and I wasn't able to do anything other than stare at him.

"I do find you an amusing and likeable child, though. It would be a shame to end your life – if only to see what you will become in another decade or so. After all, you certainly didn't intend to encounter me."

He took a step forward and laid the edge of the blade across my throat, pressing ever so slightly. My mouth had gone dry. I was beyond trembling now – so frightened that my muscles had just locked up.

"So, Wisp. Shall I kill you?"

My world shrunk to my throat and his sword. I didn't want to die. I didn't!

_No!_

"No."

It was very matter-of-fact, if a bit raspy from my dry throat. My tone of voice indicated that I'd weighed the options, and decided against it. Never mind the fact that the death grip I had on the chair was the only thing keeping me from falling over.

"Very well." He shrugged and resheathed his sword quite suddenly.

_Then_ I fell over – slid right off the chair into a little puddle of nerves on the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a lot of screaming and tears afterward. On my part, I mean. I used up the complete list of words I'd learned from the sailors, the town guard, _and_ Arquen, but the smile on his face didn't waver once. I was beginning to suspect being an amusing distraction for him was not all it was cracked up to be. Sure, I might not die from his sword, but being scared to death was looking more and more likely.

Eventually, my terrified tantrum ran down. I hiccuped a few times and scrubbed uselessly at my face. I felt wrung out, as though I'd been slapped against the stone wall.

"Are you feeling better now, Wisp?" The assassin was leaning back in his chair, _still_ smiling. I couldn't figure out why. Maybe he wasn't all right in the head.

I looked up at him from where I was sitting on the floor, exhausted. "I hate you."

"Good. Then you won't expect anything of me." He stood and offered me his hand. "Would you like another nap? It has been a very trying day for you, I believe."

"Go away." I turned my back on him. "Leave me alone."

"Very well." He took his chair back over to the desk, sat down, and pulled out some more parchment. I waited for a few minutes, listening to the scratching of his pen. Eventually, my head dropped down into my arms. I _was_ tired. Surely he wouldn't notice if I just closed my eyes for a moment? Just for a little bit…

When I opened my eyes again, I was once again curled up on the bedroll. With some embarrassment, I realized I'd been nervously sucking on my fist while I'd been asleep. I rubbed my damp knuckles on my shirt. Had Lucien put me on the bedroll? He must have – I didn't remember climbing up there.

At the thought of the assassin, my eyes sought him out in a sort of vain hope that he was gone. But he wasn't. Sitting in his desk chair, eyes closed, arms crossed across his chest, head to the side. I bit my lip. Was he asleep? He looked asleep. Could I get out before he woke up? I still had a few lockpicks on me.

Thoughts of the vampires fled my mind when compared with thoughts of getting out alive. Carefully, trying desperately to keep from making any noise, I levered myself up and began to lower myself down to the floor.

"I do hope you aren't thinking of running away. I've had just about enough of sewers for now."

I squeaked in shock, slipped, fell, and landed on my bottom. "_Ow_!"

When I looked up, he was sitting in the same position, only this time with his eyes open. He smiled slightly. "I'm sure you were only getting another book to read, Wisp. You're smarter than that."

I scowled. "Why'd you pretend to be sleeping?"

"Pretend? You think that I was pretending to sleep?"

"Yes. People don't sleep in chairs. They'd fall off." I was mad at myself for not thinking of it before. Every one of us kids knew that a guard in a chair was obvious bait. I'd been so eager to escape I'd forgotten my basic lessons.

"Ah, Wisp. When you live as I do, you learn to sleep while you can, and to awaken at the slightest noise if necessary. I have been forced to sleep standing up before." He smiled again. "It only takes a few bruises to get used to it."

I was only half-sure he was pulling my leg. But… "Um…could I learn to do it?"

"Perhaps, but do not look to me for instruction, Wisp. The secrets of my Family are to remain in my Family."

"Hmph." I pulled my knees up to my chin. "Why d'you keep saying that? What's so great about a family? It's not really a family, anyway." I peeked over my arms. "Is it?"

He looked at me silently for a good, long while. I shifted nervously when he fingered the hilt of his sword, but he didn't move from the chair. "Tell me, why do you think so?"

"I…you said Arquen isn't really your sister. You just call her that like the priests and monks call each other that, right? It's just a name."

"For the servants of the Nine, yes. It is just a name. But for us, it is not." He unsheathed his sword. A quick smile flitted across his face when I flinched backwards in fear. He held it out, turning it slowly in the candlelight, watching it shine. It looked _very_ sharp. "I was given this sword by my…teacher. It is forged of silver – made to strike undead and creatures of magic – and it served her well in her homeland of Morrowind. She gave it to me when I had proven myself to her. Her own blade. For assassins, our weapons are as our own bodies. We live by them lest we die by them. Do you understand what I am saying, Wisp?"

I wet my lips. The sword was making me really scared. "I – I…it was like she gave you her?"

His smile this time was different. Softer. "Close enough. She gave me her trust. And her love. Unlike other families, we are not bound by our own blood. Rather, we are bound by others' blood. Without this bond, we would be dead. I take that very seriously."

"W-what happened to your teacher?"

Slowly, he resheathed the sword, looking at a distant point somewhere over my head. He brushed his fingers over the hilt and said, simply, "She was killed."

"Oh." I almost said, 'I'm sorry,' before I realized how stupid that would sound to an assassin. For all I knew, he did it. Instead, I asked, "Did you love her?"

He blinked and stared at me through narrowed eyes. I put on my best innocent face. I'd fooled guards with it before. I'd even fooled Armand with it before. Lucien's eyes narrowed further.

I wasn't fooling him. I dropped it and scowled. "I was just asking."

"She was my teacher. The bond I had with her was more than family." He waved a hand, dismissing the tense atmosphere. "But that is no longer important."

Trust. Love. Family. The nearly unfamiliar words swirled through my mind. It didn't make sense. All of the people at the Temple of the One told us that if we behaved, we would be happy. But I'd been miserable until I'd thrown in with the Thieves Guild. Armand and the kids of my group took care of me in a way that my own family never had. And then…what this _murderer_ described sounded even better than that. And he did worse than stealing. It wasn't fair.

"I want to be part of the Dark Brotherhood," I suddenly said, entirely serious. "I want a family like yours."

For the second time, Lucien actually looked surprised. "You?"

"Yes!" I uncurled and crawled over to his feet, looking up hopefully. "I'm smart – you said so. I'm good at sneaking. I know I'm little, but I'll get bigger. And if I join, you won't have to kill me, right?"

Lucien shook his head, smiling. "And yet another first. A child _asking_ to join." He suddenly sobered. "What is your real name, Wisp?"

"Um…" I made a face. I _hated_ my name. "Claennis."

"That's an old name. A very old name."

"It's a stupid name."

He continued as though he hadn't heard me. "Also an odd name for a waterfront orphan."

"I'm not an orphan!" I protested. Then I hung my head and muttered bitterly, "I'm just a girl. Same thing, as my family cares. Sounds like a boy's name. Wisp is prettier."

He waved his hand again, this time dismissing my complaining. "Does it really matter? If you hate it, change it."

I blinked. I'd never really considered that. "Change it? I can do that?"

"Oh yes. Names are strange that way. They don't really mean anything. A word is merely a word. Street rat is just an ugly name for a child who doesn't care for her home. And assassin is just a pretty name for someone who kills important people."

I stifled a whimper – very, _very_ glad that I wasn't important.

He was odd, this man. His very way of speaking seemed to lull me into forgetting what he was. And then, just as I'd forgotten, he'd say something like that and tense me right back up again. And I was absolutely sure he meant every word.

"Why _do_ you kill people?" The question was out almost before I'd even though it.

He smiled slowly. "I must admit, I was wondering when that would be asked of me. You haven't yet learnt tact."

"Tact?"

He shook his head, still smiling. "Nothing important. To answer your question, I enjoy it. I believe I told you such…earlier."

I was a little taken aback. "Really? But…it's wrong, isn't it? I mean, they always tell us it is."

"Ah, yes…the infamous Bloodprice of the Thieves Guild." Even my young ears couldn't miss the note of distain in his voice. "Conditional morality is so useful to the Gray Fox. You do realize that if you were a member of the Dark Brotherhood, you would have to kill as well?"

"Oh…I forgot."

"I thought you had."

"So…if you think it's fun…" I swallowed, "You really would kill me?"

He looked a little impatient at my question. "Of course I would. I would if I was given a contract to, and I may even kill you simply because I feel like it. You should realize this by now."

I stuck out my bottom lip, "How am I supposed to know? I'm just a kid!"

"Children are only expected to know nothing because the alternative frightens people. Don't pretend to be stupid, Wisp. Stupid people bore me."

I guessed pretty quickly what he did to boring people.

A sudden quiet rapping on the door nearly made my heart jump clear out of my chest. Lucien grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him, underneath the desk. "Stay still and silent," he ordered in a low voice. "If you do anything to announce your presence, I will slit your throat."

The scary thing was that it wasn't a threat. He said it the same way someone else would tell you not to run or you might trip. He almost sounded concerned for my wellbeing. I drew back into the shadows, tucked my feet under my body, pulled my sleeves over my hands, buried my face in my arms, and held my breath.

In that position, I couldn't see what happened next, and I could barely hear the conversation. But I was more worried about how dusty it was down there. I pressed my arms against my face as hard as I could, trying to fight off a sneeze. If I sneezed it would be the last thing I ever did.

Silently, I prayed to Mara that I'd get out of this alive. I told her I couldn't promise I'd never steal again, though. Then, just in case She didn't want to save me because of that, I tentatively prayed to Sithis too – thinking hard of the few times in my short life I'd seen snow. I promised Him I wouldn't tell anyone about Lucien, or the little hidey-hole in the sewers, or the Dunmer who wanted someone to die.

I hoped the two Gods didn't hate each other or something. Would They get mad at me? I was only doing what S'krivva called 'covering my bases'…though I'd always been somewhat unsure as to what bases those were and why I wanted to keep them covered.

Eventually, I felt a touch on my arm. Looking up, I saw Lucien crouching in front of me, holding his hand out. I reached to take it and immediately began to sneeze so hard I began to cough, my eyes watering viciously. With a soft sigh, Lucien hooked his hands under my arms, pulled me gently out from beneath the desk and set me down on one of the chairs. There, I continued to cough. I heard the sound of glass clinking again. Lucien was pouring a couple glasses of water from a bottle.

"Here." He handed me one. Even with the way that my throat felt, I took it warily, refusing to take a drink until I saw him sip from his own cup. Once he did, I drank. It was warm, and a little stale, but sweet with herbs of some kind to make it easier to drink. It soothed my throat and eased my coughing.

"Better?"

"Kinda." I coughed again, feeling light-headed, so I took another drink. "Who was that?"

"Someone with information I needed. You will be leaving soon, Wisp."

"But I don't want to leave."

"Really? Then why did you try to run away earlier?"

Was the room darker than before? "I – that's different – I – "

Raising a hand to my head, I wobbled in my seat. My cup slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor. I suddenly realized that the herbs in the water must have covered some other taste – like poison. I tried to say something, but my tongue felt thick and the words didn't work right.

"…poison?" I finally managed.

"Hardly. Merely a drug. I think poison would be rather excessive in this situation." He leaned forward, studying my face. I tried to fight off the effects of the drug, but my head was spinning.

"No fair…prayed…!"

"You've got a higher tolerance than I expected," the assassin mused as I struggled to stay upright. He sighed and stood, blending into the darkness that was starting to envelop me. I heard his voice again, as though from a great distance. "But then, I rarely bother to drug children. Live and learn, as they say. I am sorry about this, but I'm in a hurry. Goodbye, little Claennis."

His hand lashed out, and hit me hard, just above my temple. The force flung me clear off of the chair and I hit the floor like a ragdoll. Flashing whiteness sparkled behind my eyelids. Pain exploded inside of my head.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

A/N: It's not done yet! One more chapter to go!


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